


Searching

by syriala



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cold, Fluff, Gloves, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:04:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: “Dude, did you see my gloves?” Stiles asks over his shoulder as he continues to rummage through his drawers. He has been searching for them all over his room, but so far, no luck.





	Searching

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Inktober for Writers thing, and the word for day 1 was 'searching'.

“Dude, did you see my gloves?” Stiles asks over his shoulder as he continues to rummage through his drawers. He has been searching for them all over his room, but so far, no luck.

“I really do need them,” he mumbles into the armful of clothes he has but he still can’t see them.

“What is so special about them anyway?” Derek grumbles behind him and Stiles sighs.

“They are fingerless, which comes in really handy for all the stupid spell work and they are cozy and fluffy. Have you ever seen them? If you would you wouldn’t have to ask this,” Stiles tells him but Derek apparently has stopped paying attention to him, instead carefully regarding the mess around him.

“Can we leave now?” he asks with one raised eyebrow and Stiles sighs.

“Fine, whatever. If I lose my fingers because of this it’s gonna be your fault.”

“I am responsible for the cold?” Derek asks and Stiles throws his beanie at him.

“No, but it’s your mess I have to somehow spell away,” he quips back, even though they both know it’s not true.

Scott is the alpha, and that means it’s technically his mess. But Derek doesn’t argue with him, instead he shoves him towards the door.

Stiles doesn’t end up losing his fingers, but that’s mostly due to the fact that Derek offers to warm them for him in between spells.

Werewolves are naturally warmer than humans and Stiles is not about using Derek for his body warmth.

“You should get more than one pair of gloves,” Derek tells him when he rubs some life back into his fingers again.

“But they are so soft,” Stiles whines and Derek does this thing that is half between an eyeroll and a sigh and comes across as mostly fond.

His reply is cut off by an inhuman screech somewhere to their left and Stiles scrambles to get back to his spells. They better get this over with.

 

Stiles hasn’t thought about the gloves in almost a week when he comes home to find a pair on his bed. They are not his old ones, the colour is all wrong, but when he touches them, they feel like clouds between his hands, all soft and warm and more than comfortable.

Stiles quickly tugs them on, and not only are they fitting, they are also fingerless and Stiles is in love.

When Derek climbs into his room barely half an hour later Stiles doesn’t even pretend to be surprised. He was already facing the window, just waiting for the creeper to make his appearance.

“They are perfect,” he opens with and he could swear Derek lightly blushes under his scruff.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he grumbles, but Stiles is by now an avid translator of Derek speech and this means he is embarrassed.

“Thank you,” Stiles rushes out, before he quickly darts up to brush a kiss at Derek’s cheek before he sits back down and goes back to his homework, gloves still covering his hands.

He can’t be sure, but he is almost certain that Derek mumbled a “You’re welcome” behind his back before he left through the window again.

 

 


End file.
